


Full Disclosure

by ThousandFaces



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThousandFaces/pseuds/ThousandFaces
Summary: He risked everything to get back to his family. Now Cobb's faced with risking it all again to protect them or refusing and losing everything. Of course, there's a third option. But Arthur doesn't approve...
Relationships: Ariadne (Inception)/Original Female Character(s), Arthur/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. The Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> This is a revamp of a fic I started years ago. For those of you wanting a bit more context for this story than you get in the summary, this fic is gonna involve all of our favorite characters from the film, one or two new ones, and romances are going to bloom – but the course of true love never did run smooth and neither does crime. I have a little over 30,000 words already written so look for some regular updates to this for a while!

The sun shined down on the modest California ranch house, ping-ponging its way through the leaves of the oak trees lining the property, casting a strange quilt-work of light on Arthur’s light tan jacket.

He lifted his finger off the doorbell, taking a step back off the porch and onto the steps, craning his head up and around so he could admire the subtle browns of the woodwork. He had only been to Cobb’s house once before, just after Dom and Mal had first moved there. They had wanted a place away from the city, some place quiet and open, with plenty of space for James and Phillipa to grow up. Arthur couldn’t help but think, even after all this time, how strange it was to be here when Mal wasn’t. The air seemed a little colder, the woods a little too quiet – there was a tension in the wind and he would’ve given anything to hear a couple of cars drive past.

His thoughts would have continued in this somber vein if Dominic Cobb hadn’t finally opened the door. A smile fluttered to Arthur’s lips, a mixture of relief and warmth finding itself in his eyes, his hand stretching out towards his host. “Dom, hey.”

Cobb’s hands clasped his warmly as he greeted him with a rare smile. “Arthur! Come on in.” Cobb pulled Arthur gently into the house’s entryway, closing the door behind them with a quick glance outside. “How was the flight? Bearable?”

“Just fine, thanks.” Arthur shrugged the leather jacket off smoothly, hanging it on the hooks by the door before turning back to face Cobb, adjusting his cuffs slightly. “Managed to get a seat in first class, despite the short notice.” His anxious hands burrowed into his pants pockets. “You sounded pretty serious over the phone, is everything alright?”

Cobb took a deep breath in, one hand slipping into his pocket automatically. He looked off into nothing, his brow furrowing, his fingers fiddling with the top as he breathed out slowly. “Honestly? Not as alright as I’d like it to be.”

With a slight jolt he seemed to remember himself, taking in Arthur’s concerned, expectant glance before smiling and lifting a hand up to his friend’s shoulder. “I appreciate you coming, I know you’re busy.”

Arthur shrugged good naturedly, his signature half-smile slipping across his face. “It’s my pleasure; I was getting bored of Hong Kong anyway.” 

Cobb chuckled quietly, turning and walking down the hallway with a jerk of his head. “Well don’t stand there like a stranger – come on, I’ll make us some drinks.”

Arthur followed him, conscious of the sound of his own leather soled shoes tapping lightly against the hardwood, echoing behind him as the sound of laughter bounced towards him from the front.

He leaned against the island in the kitchen, fingers tapping out a complicated tattoo as his mind followed his eyes’ wandering path. Out in the backyard James and Phillipa were playing some sort of complicated make-believe. From what he could tell, James didn’t like taking direction from his older sister. He sat pouting in the grass as the precocious Phillipa was giving him some kind of lecture on the rules. Far in the background, under the shade of some trees, sat Professor Miles, sipping some lemonade and laughing, apparently to himself.

The sound of a glass tapping marble countertop grabbed Arthur’s attention, but not his gaze. He took the drink with a nod, sipping his usual gin and tonic on the rocks with a contemplative air. He tossed his head towards the scene beyond the sliding glass door. “Looks like quite the family scene.” 

“It certainly is,” Cobb sighed, leaning against the opposite side of the counter with his elbows, hands clasping together in front of him, a barely suppressed smile on his otherwise serious face. “It’s everything I ever wanted – I just wish Mal was here to see it.”

Arthur nodded, slipping onto a stool gracefully, one foot coming up to rest on the rung. He took a long drink, enjoying the sweet burn in the back of his throat before asking the question he flew over seven thousand miles to ask. “So, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Cobb didn’t speak for a long time, seemingly content to watch the bubbles rising in his whiskey and soda, fingers lacing and unlacing themselves. Arthur knew better than to push for an answer, nursing what was left of his drink while he waited. 

“Two days ago, a man came to the house…”

* * *

Gravel crunched in the driveway outside, but Cobb didn’t look up. It’d been a problem the first few months, but gradually he’d been able to train himself to not jump at every shadow, to avoid staring at every strange passerby, and to stop waking up to sounds in the middle of the night.

So when he heard the doorbell ring, he didn’t think it was anyone more threatening than a delivery man or a driver who’d gotten lost. He didn’t bother to look out the front window. If he had he might have noticed the armored sedan with tinted windows parked in the drive, or the two muscle-bound suits walking the perimeter with their hands resting suspiciously in their jacket pockets. But he didn’t notice this, because he didn’t look out the window. And so he did make the very big mistake of opening his door to one, Rafe Toporak 

When you’re an extractor, you learn to read people pretty well. Cobb only had to look in Rafe Toporak’s apple green eyes, deep set in his dark tan face, to know exactly how deep in trouble he was.

“Can I help you?” Cobb kept his voice as even as possible, wedging his body in between the door and its frame.

Toporak finished tucking his sunglasses into his jacket pocket with a grin, looking out from under his brow and into Cobb’s face. “I certainly hope so, Mr. Cobb. I’ve come quite a ways to meet you.” He pulled his gloves off slowly, never taking his eyes off Cobb’s face, staring him down. “I always think business should be handled in person.” He laughed suddenly, a high pitched bark, throwing his head back and his hands in his pockets. “I guess you could say I’m a little old fashioned.”

Cobb returned his smile, as empty as it was, but remained unmoved, one hand resting firmly on the door. “I guess you could. But I’m not exactly sure what business we have together, Mr.…?”

“Rafe Toporak,” he didn’t bother offering his hand, his expression completely unchanged, his gaze horrifically steady, “and we have only the most serious business together, Mr. Cobb. But first,” He shifted his weight slowly, leaning forward ever so slightly, the smell of his expensive cologne filling Cobb’s senses with an uncomfortable sticky scent, “I need to ask you a very important question.”

Cobb’s laugh stuck in his throat, but it still managed to sound sincere. “Look, Mr. Toporak, I think you have the wrong house–”

“Do you love your children, Mr. Cobb?”

Cobb ceased all movement. His expression, as it often did in such situations went blank. Yet careful as he was to hide any emotion, even he could hear the shift in his voice. “Excuse me?”

“Do you love your children?” Toporak was still smiling, open-mouthed, eyes wide and unblinking. “I sincerely hope you do, because I very much look forward to watching you cry over their dead, mangled bodies.”

Cobb’s grip on the door tightened, but his face, he hoped, revealed none of his desires.

Toporak’s smile widened, a hand coming out of his pocket, gesturing as he spoke. “Unless, of course, you’d like to invite me in to discuss our business?”

Wordlessly, but smoothly, Cobb stepped away from the door, holding it open for his unwelcome guest. A nod was Toporak’s only answer as he slid inside, his expensive silk suit brushing quietly against the woodwork. He made his way down the corridor without an invitation, leaving Cobb at the door to examine the situation outside. The two men remained by the car, shifting calmly from foot to foot, their stances taut.

Cobb closed the door softly. He heard some clinking in the direction of the kitchen and slowly made his way to that part of the house. When he entered, Toporak was helping himself to a glass of wine. The best wine, Cobb noted with a raise of his brow. A raise that did not go unnoticed by the man opposite. Toporak gestured to his full glass with a look of concern. “I trust you do not object?”

“Of course not,” Cobb crossed his arms over his chest, walking towards the counter as if he was in little hurry. “I expect every man who threatens my family to help himself to a drink.”

At this, Toporak laughed again. It was a laugh Cobb was sure he could learn to hate. In fact, he was half way there already. “Forgive me, but I’m sure you understand. It was necessary for me to illustrate how seriously I take my business transactions. And I assure you,” he paused to take a sip of the white he had selected, closing his eyes as he savored it, “I fully intend to proceed in such a manner if I am unsatisfied with our transaction. Nothing personal of course!” The sickeningly toothy smile returned as he examined Cobb through half-lidded eyes. “I have only the highest respect for you and what you do. Or else I wouldn’t be here enjoying your very fine wine. Extraction isn’t a crime -” He lifted his glass in Cobb’s direction with a flourish. “– it’s an art. Especially the way you do it.”

“If this is about a job,” Cobb rested a hand on the counter, leaning in on it slightly, “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve been out of the game for a year now and I’m not looking to get back in.” 

“So I’ve heard.” Toporak sat down smoothly on the nearest stool, swirling the wine in his glass. “The great Dominic Cobb – retired! Well, I have some good news for you: I have no desire to pull you out of retirement.” He gestured with his free hand up and down in Cobb’s direction. “Not when it obviously suits you so well!”

“Then how can I help you, Mr. Toporak?”

Toporak watched him evenly over the rim of his glass, head falling slightly to one side. “Haven’t you guessed yet?”

Cobb pushed himself off the counter, the hand still in his pocket clenching tightly. “No, I’m afraid not.”

Toporak leaned back, adjusting his cuff links as his smile took on a half moon shape. “Well, it’s inception, Mr. Cobb. I want it.”


	2. An Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about Toporak and what, precisely, he wants from Dom Cobb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to everyone who visited for the first chapter! Just as promised, here is the second, right on schedule. Setting up stakes, because a story would be no fun without them...

“Inception.” Cobb forced a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “Are you serious?”

There was a pregnant pause from Toporak, his glass frozen half-way up to his lips which were pressed thin together. His brows dipped over his bright green eyes as he stared at Cobb. “Always.”

Cobb took a breath, meeting the intruder’s gaze, gauging his next move carefully in lieu of this comment. He perched himself on the edge of the stool opposite Toporak, pitching his gaze around the room lazily. “Mr. Toporak…what can I say? I’m flattered. Really. Flattered, that you think I’m that good. But, uh, I’m afraid someone’s been spinning you stories if you think–”

“If I think you can perform inception, yes.” Toporak placed his glass on the countertop with a heavy sigh, as if the thin crystal vessel’s weight had been immense. ”Honestly, Mr. Cobb, I never would’ve expected this kind of childish behavior from a man like you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t –” he paused as he took a clean white handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his brow “– terribly disappointed.”

Cobb leaned back, crossing his legs slowly while making sure not to blink.

Toporak tucked the cloth into the breast pocket of his Gucci suit jacket. He leaned his elbow on the counter, hand gesturing in fluid circles. “I had thought, _hoped,_ that you were capable of judging a man’s character quickly. Now, either you haven’t made the effort to judge me at all –” the hand that had been busy with the handkerchief gripped at his chest as if he’d been wounded “– or, you have simply made a gross error in your final judgment of my person.”

All movement on Toporak’s stopped, his eyes flat and glassy under the waning sunlight coming through the kitchen window. “Do I look like the sort of man who would make a trip half-way around the world based on a few stories? Do I look like the sort of man who doesn’t do his homework? Who doesn’t know everything about you that there is to know, including the fact that by rights, you shouldn’t really be here, sitting comfortably in your own house? That where you should be is in a six by eight cell, contemplating a lifetime spent separated from your children? Yet…” Toporak nodded slowly, mouth widening slightly, “…here you are. Which is a miracle. Who would let such a miracle go unexplained?”

Toporak leaned back, flinging his arms melodramatically, his head shaking vigorously from side to side. “No. No, Mr. Cobb, I am not that sort of man.” His hands dropped to his sides, his voice a cheery monotone. “I know of the services you preformed for Mr. Saito and his company. I know the grand success you had with your little project. What I don’t know,” Toporak’s tan finger wiggled playfully in the air, a twisted smile on his face, “is how. This is all I want from you.”

It was obviously pointless to attempt to lie. In fact, if Cobb’s judgment of the man across from him was correct, it would be dangerous to deny anything at this point. His response came slowly, each word delivered with measured intonation. “Well, Mr. Toporak, if you want how, I’m going to need to know why.”

Toporak’s smile shrank slightly, his head once more listing to one side. “Why?”

“Why do you want to know how to perform inception?”

Toporak picked up his abandoned glass lightly, fingers sliding over the stem as if he was trying to remember what it felt like. “So many reasons. The most primary of which, I don’t mind telling you, is money.” His plump lips wrapped round the rim of the glass. “You and I are in the same business, Mr. Cobb. As a matter of fact I’ve already acquired several clients who are very, very interested in this particular service. Clients who are willing to pay a considerable amount of money for a chance to change the world in their favor.”

Cobb slipped a hand into his pants pocket, toying with the top he found there. “Changing the world is a dangerous business, Mr. Toporak. Sometimes you can’t predict who it’s going to fall in on afterwards.”

Toporak finished off his glass of wine with a flourish, closing his eyes as he savored the mouthful. Swallowing, glass still held up in his hand, he stood, throwing a glance down at Cobb as he rose. “That is a risk I am more than willing to take.” He walked aimlessly over to the sink, depositing his glass in the recess calmly, looking out the window over the wide backyard. “Naturally I don’t expect to receive and understand all the intricacies here and now! I think a month should be sufficient time for you to gather all the materials and information I will need, write up a report with the necessary instructions, et cetra, et cetra?”

Cobb watched Toporak at the window, his back turned, his stance erect and self-assured. Cobb shifted his weight, allowing his feet to drop to the floor. “I’m curious: what makes you think I’m going to do any of the things you just proposed?”

Toporak leaned forward, wiping an invisible mote of dust off the windowpane in front of him. “I don’t think, Mr. Cobb. I know. I know that you aren’t going to let anything untoward happen to your newly restored family. Nor do I think you are willing to uproot their lives to run; after all Phillipa has dance lessons with Mrs. Terron to get to. And James is so looking forward to starting Kindergarten in just a little while.” He threw a glance over his shoulder. “I’m not a violent man, Mr. Cobb, but I know quite a lot of people who are. They love to play with children, in fact – they specialize in such things.”

The air in the kitchen was hot and stagnant. Neither man moved and the only sound that was heard was the steady ticking of the clock on the far wall, slicing away seconds.

“I don’t suppose I really have a choice at this point.”

Cobb heard Toporak laugh; low, rough, quiet and genuinely laugh. Cobb didn’t like it one bit. “No, you really don’t.”

Toporak turned smartly on his heel, teeth gleaming from under dark lips. “I’ll be having a little celebration at the end of this month, at the Hotel Corinthia in Prague.” He began walking towards the door, the heels of his five hundred dollar shoes clicking brightly against the hardwood. “Bring everything there, it’ll be simpler.” As he passed by Cobb, still sitting stoically at the counter, his hand fell heavily on the other man’s shoulder. “Be sure to give James and Phillipa my love, won’t you? I hope, for all our sakes, that I won’t be seeing them soon.”

Cobb didn’t turn to watch his guest leave. He listened as his steps receded down the hall. His shoulders dropped when he heard the door open and shut. And as the sound of a car pulling out of his gravel driveway slowly dissipated, he took the top out of his pocket and spun it on the counter, watching it gravely.

* * *

“And he left. Just like that?”

Cobb finished the last of his whiskey and soda, standing up to refill his glass. “Just like that. And then I called you.”

Arthur pushed his almost full drink away from him, leaning against the counter heavily. “What are you going to do, Dom?”


	3. Cherchez la Femme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cobb and Arthur begin to form a plan to deal with the dangerous Toporak. But they disagree on the finer points and the devil is always in the details...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has visited this little story over the last couple of weeks! Here's the next update, right on schedule.

Cobb kept his back turned to Arthur, going through the motions of mixing his drink. As his hands reached first for some ice, then for the bottle, Arthur noticed Cobb’s gaze was directed straight forward, as if the answer was written on the blank wall in front of him.

“When we did what we did, I knew that there would be consequences. You can’t just change the world like that and hope no one notices.” Cobb gave the lid of the bottle a spin with one hand, sighing deeply, his shoulders falling gently. “Inception opened up a Pandora’s box of new possibilities, new ways of controlling things, and new ways of shifting power. Those kinds of possibilities are attractive to all sorts of people, rarely people with good intentions.” Cobb turned, gripping the counter behind him, keeping his eyes trained on the tiled floor beneath his feet, eyes widening as his conviction grew. “But I did this – I rubbed the lamp and let the genie out of the bottle and I can’t just walk away from it. Even if I want to. And I’m not about to let some psychopath like Toporak get his hands on it.” 

Arthur smiled wide, the left corner of his mouth curling up impishly as he settled more comfortably into his chair, relaxing almost instantly. “I’m in.”

Cobb looked up sharply, jumping at the recognition that Arthur was still in the room with him, that he wasn’t working this out alone in his own head. His blue eyes narrowed in confusion, but he smiled good naturedly. “You’re in?” Arthur declined to answer, taking a generous swallow from his glass. Cobb ran a hand through his hair, keeping eye contact but laughing quietly. “You’re in what; I still have no idea what I’m going to do.”

Arthur extended his forefinger from around the glass he was holding. “You’ll think of something. And when you do, I’m in.” He leaned in conspiratorially, resting his upper arms on the counter. “Have I ever let you do a job on your own?”

Cobb shook his head from side to side as he reached behind him, picking up his glass carefully. “Not since I first started. Not since Belize.”

Arthur stood up in one fluid motion, taking his drink with him as he began pacing. Moving always helped him think. He had gotten himself through advanced quantum physics that way – nearly wore out the rug in his apartment, but the passing grade was well worth it. “Okay, so we’ve got a month. That’s not a whole lot of time.”

Cobb walked forward, resuming his seat on the other side of the counter. “I was thinking we might want to get back to basics with this one.”

“Extraction?”

“A man this bad, he has to have a store-house full of dirty little secrets.” Cobb spread his hands out over the counter, as if the secret he needed was laying just beneath the surface. His gaze was fixed and intense and he was thinking as fast as he was talking. “There’s something in his mind that he doesn’t want anybody to know. We dig deep enough, we might be able to dig up something to make him back off. For good.” A particularly loud trill of laughter from outside caught his attention momentarily. As he looked out the window his hand clenched his still full glass. “Whatever we do we have to do it fast. It has to be simple, easy to implement – and I can’t be involved.”

Arthur turned neatly on his heel as he stopped, his glass coming abruptly down from his still dry lips. “What?”

Cobb avoided his eyes expertly, staring into the amber recesses of his drink. “I can’t do it, Arthur. I made a promise when I got stateside. I can’t risk the life I have here. If something happened – I can’t put the kids through that.” He looked up from under his hooded eyes, smile taking on a tint of bitterness. “And this is going to get plenty risky.” He sat up straight, pulling his shoulders back as he pointedly asked, “You think you could handle my job and yours?”

Arthur was normally very good at controlling his emotions – he’d made a whole career based on this simple talent. But even he couldn’t suppress the nervous laughter the suggestion elicited. “Ah, ha! Cobb, you know I’m not one for false modesty, so believe me when I say no. No way. I’m a point man, that’s what I do.” Arthur stepped into the living room, perching himself on the arm of an easy chair. He gestured towards Cobb broadly with his empty hand. “Extraction, that’s always been your area of expertise.”

Cobb breathed out through his nose, leaning his upper body on the counter. “Well, we better find somebody else just as expert.”

“You got anybody in mind?”

“It has to be somebody with considerable experience.” Cobb took a moment to gather his thoughts, eyes drifting heavenwards as he remembered his previously considered criteria. “Somebody who knows the business inside and out. Above all, someone we can trust to do whatever it takes. This is my family at stake, we can’t play around” His eyes flickered down to meet Arthur’s. “To be honest, I was thinking of Mo.”

At first, Arthur’s expression was blank. It was like he hadn’t even heard Cobb speak. He didn’t move a muscle, a statue sitting languidly on Cobb’s furniture. After a few tense moments he took a slow, deep breath in, his dark brown eyes widening ever so slightly. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Cobb’s voice was carefully pitched to be especially soothing. “Arthur–”

“Tell me you’re joking!” Arthur was standing stock straight, his mostly empty glass perched perilously in his fingertips. “Mo! Cobb, you can’t be serious!”

Cobb waved a hand up in his defense, replying firmly, “She’s good! She’s one of the best, you can’t deny it!”

If Arthur was a cat he would have been bristling all over. Under different circumstances, Cobb would be trying not to smile at his friend’s obvious distress. “Like hell I can’t! But you know what?” Arthur moved forward towards the counter purposefully, nearly slamming the glass down in his annoyance. “I don’t have to. She’s out, Cobb. She’s been out for almost three years now.”

“Sounds like she’d be ready to get back in, don’t you think?”

They were momentarily interrupted by the entrance of James and Phillipa, running barefoot into the house with their grandfather following slowly, smiling with paternal pride. The three disappeared down the hallway as quickly as they came, but both men waited an extra beat before continuing.

Arthur rolled his shoulders with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head slightly. “Cobb, trust me – forget about her. She dropped off-grid. No one has heard from her since she left.” He shrugged, but there was no sadness in it. “I don’t think she wants to be found.”

“Who?”

The question surprised them both. Miles stood in the door frame that connected the wide living area to the rest of the house, his hands resting gently in his pockets, expression open and curious. Cobb leaned back on his chair as he addressed him. “Mosi Doust, do you remember her?”

Miles face lit up slightly, a smile breaking through as he chuckled. “Remember her? How could I forget!” Resting against the frame he waggled a finger in an amused sort of way. “You know, we still exchange Christmas cards every year? I’ve never had a student so devoted that never even finished a single semester of my class.”

Arthur tried hard to contain his appall, exchanging a significant look with the sickeningly smug looking Cobb. Cobb turned back to Miles with an innocent smile. “Miles, you wouldn’t happen to have her last address, would you?”

Looking slightly surprised by the request, Miles took a moment to consider. “I think so. Why?”

Arthur placed his hands flat on the counter, leaning against them as if in pain. “She’ll never say yes.”

Cobb shrugged nonchalantly, downing the rest of his drink. “I guess we won’t know ‘til we ask.”


	4. Observation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet one Mosi Doust, currently living in obscurity in London, who is about to receive an unwelcome visit from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at last! An introduction I hope you'll all enjoy. Thanks so much to everyone who has visited this little story over the last few weeks. As always, more to come!

Mosi Doust was bored. Bored and depressed. She was bored and depressed and really second guessing her life choices

Which was never a good thing.

Once she started second guessing her life choices, serious consideration had to be given to what those life choices were, the circumstances surrounding them, and the things that preceded them.

All of which inevitably led to some form of self-reflection. Again, never a good thing.

She blamed London. England as well. No, she blamed the whole northern hemisphere. She wound a piece of seal brown hair around her finger as she considered the insanity of her next thought.

She actually missed Cape Town.

At least there they had proper weather. March was a time when that earthy, wet, uniquely African smell was just beginning to fade from the air as the thunderstorms slowly dissipated. The breezes were mild, days warm, and nights balmy. How many times had she been bored there, rocking herself into a restless sleep in the hammock outside her house, dreaming of being anywhere else but home, the tips of her fingers trailing languorously in the tall grass as she made pictures out of the few stars she could see?

Now she was trapped in a dingy flat in Croydon; sprawled across her bed, the tips of her hair brushing against the thinly carpeted concrete floor since her head was dangling off the edge of her indecently tiny bed. Her bare feet beat a funeral dirge against her window.

She lifted her head up slowly, moving her feet to the edges of the pane so she could look out, hopeful she might see a ray of color or sun.

But no; it was raining outside and grey. Surprise, surprise.

Her head fell heavily back into its previous position as she sighed, almost growled, to herself. London had been a mistake, that much was obvious… but for all this time she had grinned and bore it; how could she stop now?

All the blood had drained to her head.

Mosi rolled off the bed with a complete lack of grace, her head, hip, and kneecap smacking against the hard floor simultaneously. She groaned half-heartedly, face smooshed into the beige carpet which, she now determined, tasted like old cigarettes and moldy beer.

“Jess? You okay?”

Mosi’s misty blue eyes rolled back into her head for a moment before she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She had forgotten her flat mate was home.

“I’m fine, Aubrey, thanks!”

There was a long silence from the other end of the flat. With a depreciative shake of her head, Mosi considered how anyone as dumb as Aubrey Jenkins could make the obscene amount of money she did. Mosi could almost hear the gears turning in the poor girl’s head as she considered what to say next.

“I thought I heard a ‘thud’ or something!”

Yes. The girl had exclaimed it. Aubrey was that excited about her observation.

Mosi got to her feet, brushing off her baggy purple jumper before shouting back, “Yes, I heard that too! Someone upstairs must have dropped something.”

Mosi waited a beat, curious whether a reply would be forthcoming. She took Aubrey’s silence to mean that either the sentences had been too complicated for her to understand, or she had accepted the explanation, despite the fact that there was no upstairs; they were on the top floor.

The rain continued to fall with sickening consistency. Mosi stood still in the middle of her truly depressing room, listening to the patter on the roof and the sudden blast of pop music from the living room (Cher, she gathered quickly), and tried, for the thousandth time since she had arrived three years ago, to stalwartly resign herself to this new life she had chosen.

For a brief moment, she wanted to cry. But it passed as it always had since she was sixteen.

The twenty-six-year-old version of herself considered her options at this point. She had a little stockpile of money, hidden away in some bank accounts under yet another pseudonym. But she’d been saving that for a…

She glared outside the window and refused to give in to the clichéd phrase. The bank was out. That was her nest egg and as miserable as she was, she’d seen things get a lot worse. Besides, moving around was dangerous. It required a paper trail; as careful as she was, she knew firsthand how easy it was to track someone via their globe-trotting. This was, of course, out of the question as her intent, she reminded herself, had been to drop off the grid.

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms at the thought; unconsciously processing the failure of the flat’s heating system as an emotionally encouraged shiver.

She missed it. She missed the dreams, the danger, the illegality of it all. She missed the lifestyle. She missed the people she used to work with, and, maybe more than anything, she missed the control.

Her frown deepened. She had lost it and that was that. She couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk certain things…coming out.

She was out. That part of her life was finished, done. That was the decision she had made, and she had to stick to it. Now, it was absolutely, positively necessary that she get all. The way. Out.

Hence, the cheap flat in Croydon, the fake name, and the forced sedentary lifestyle.

Ugh. Sedentary. Just the word made her want to heave. Sedentary. It sounded too much like stagnant. Like things rotting away in the ground. Like death.

She wasn’t a fan of death.

While her conscious mind was dwelling on linguistic associations, her unconscious mind, knowing, as always, what was best, had gotten her out of her jumper and sweatpants and was putting her into a long-sleeved black shirt and tight black jeans. It wasn’t until she was pulling on her hooded jacket and walking down the hallway that her subconscious filled her in.

“I’m going out!” she called as she reached the front door, fumbling with her coat

“You got a date or something?”

Mosi half smiled, zipping up the grey jacket with a snap. “Nooit [1], chine [2]! Just need a walk around is all. If anyone calls for me, tell them I’m in Piccadilly, alright?”

When Aubrey heard a knock on the flat’s door a couple hours later, she was understandably confused. Usually when ‘Jess’ left for the Circus she was gone almost all night. After all this time she practically counted on it.

In fact, Mosi Doust was still in Piccadilly Circus. Almost an hour after that knock had interrupted Aubrey’s evening preparations, Mosi was leaning against the railings that lined the tube entrance of the Piccadilly Circus stop, thin hands burrowing themselves deep in her pockets as she watched the commuters and tourists flow around her into the waning sunlight.

The temperature was beginning to drop, but Mosi kept her jacket unzipped for practical reasons. The pockets she had carefully sewn into the inner lining were empty at the moment, but her eyes searched the crowd with practiced intensity, looking carefully for a wallet ripe for the picking.

Her job at the call center not withstanding, Mosi was always on the lookout for spending money, something to keep her mind occupied and some of her more illicit urges satisfied. Some people played football, some built model ships; Mosi Doust picked pockets.

It was a hobby. Necessary for her mental health.

Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment when the rationalization crossed her mind. Her body bounced as she held in a laugh, her long thin legs crossing over each other as she shifted into a more comfortable position against the iron bars.

Being of average height and build, Mosi didn’t particularly stand out in a crowd, which had been a blessing in her previous profession and continued to be helpful in civilian life. If she had looked particularly striking in any way, finding her in a large crowd such as the one present in Piccadilly Circus would have been relatively easy, and Arthur and Cobb would’ve noticed her long before she noticed them.

This was not the case.

* * *

[1] No way, never

[2] Friend, mate


	5. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman who wants to remain lost is found by an old friend and an old enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's always weird reconnecting with people you haven't seen in a long time, isn't it? Sometimes you're happy to see them sometimes... well, life is complicated.
> 
> Thanks to all those who have seen fit to give this story the once over! As always, more to come, and if you let me know what you think, it'd be much appreciated.

After the first year, Mosi had stopped looking for familiar faces in the crowd. She had stopped worrying that old enemies or friends would hunt her down without warning. Maybe she’d even gotten a little sloppy, a little too complacent. She had gotten so used to the idea of being lost, she wasn’t sure how to feel about being found.

At first, she could only see Cobb. She caught sight of him as he stood on the opposite side of the wide street, head turning this way and that. If she hadn’t known better, Mosi would’ve assumed he was just looking for an opening in traffic, a place to cross. But his eyes weren’t looking at the cars, they were scanning the crowd. And she had to assume they were looking for her.

The hair on the back of her neck rose up against the cool air. The heat of her jacket against her skin was suddenly oppressive. From long experience she managed to keep the other, more obvious signs of panic in check. She didn’t turn her head away sharply, she didn’t cease all movement, and most importantly, she did not take off running.

Whether she wanted to do all these things was a separate matter.

She let her gaze drift lazily away from him, suddenly paying far more attention to the faces her eyes passed over. Her hands fell out of her pockets smoothly and, with careful, measured steps, she moved around the railing and made her way down the stairs of the tube station entrance. She moved far enough inside that she was mostly out of sight, stopping about ten steps down so she could peer out between the rungs of the railings, watching Cobb’s movements carefully.

Cobb crossed the street at a jog, making his way towards the fountain in the middle of the Circus. He turned around slowly as he mounted the steps, hardly even blinking as he looked through the sea of humanity that flooded the area.

Mosi watched him from her safe haven, trying to ignore the adrenaline that was making her mind fuzzy with fight or flight demands when she was trying very hard to think her way out of this.

While her mind was racing through the obvious questions of what she was going to do next, how Cobb had found her, and why he was looking for her in the first place, an expensive pair of men’s leather shoes stopped right in front of her, blocking her clean line of sight.

Eyes darkening slightly as she glared, she threw a quick glance up at the idiot who had inadvertently ruined her tactical advantage, hands coming up to grip the railing in frustration.

She ended up grabbing so hard she’d discover light vertical bruises on the palms of her hands later that evening.

It had been years since she’d seen Arthur, but she recognized him in a split-second. He was impeccably dressed as always, a black topcoat concealing what she instantly assumed was a three-piece suit so smooth you’d question whether or not it had ever seen a wrinkle. His dark brown hair was slicked back, his lips pursed together in an unmistakable look of frustration as he scanned the crowd in front of him.

Mosi had to try very hard not to cry out in dismay or move suddenly. She had to make an extreme effort not to turn around and vomit in the Piccadilly Circus entrance. She had to focus on breathing for a few moments before she got back on track with the simple ‘in-out-in’ pattern.

Having regained as much composure as was possible under the circumstances, Mosi decided quickly that the best thing she could do was slip onto the next train, wait a couple of hours in some little bar off the main streets, make a quick run to the bank to withdraw her funds and then head off to somewhere in the States, somewhere Cobb couldn’t follow.

While she was walking herself through the steps of her brilliant plan, her eyes wandered between the two men, following Arthur as he walked over to where Cobb was standing. A second idea formed in her subconscious. The smile started deep down in her stomach, tickling her there, swelling up her chest as it traveled upward. When it reached her lips, it was attempting to escape out into the atmosphere it was so wide.

It wasn’t the smart move. She knew that. It was a stupid, dangerous, petty move. She shouldn’t do it. She shouldn’t.

But she’d never been very good at impulse control and her feet were propelling her up the steps and around the opposite side of the railings before she could talk herself out of it. 

On the other side of the Circus, Arthur stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the fountain. His hands shoved themselves deep into his coat pockets as he looked up at Cobb, propping one foot up on the nearest step.

“See her?”

Cobb shook his head, coming down the steps while still looking out into the crowd. “No, I don’t.” He stopped on the last step and sighed, his shoulders falling. “Maybe we should go back to her apartment, wait for her there.”

Arthur stepped off the step with an annoyed sigh, casting his eyes upwards into the grey sky. “That could be hours, Cobb; hours we can’t afford to waste.”

Cobb watched the obvious frustration of his friend with waning patience, stepping down off the step to face him. “Who said it would be a waste?”

Arthur caught the reproach in Cobb’s tone and swallowed, attempting to redirect the aggravation that was gnawing at his stomach. He kicked an extinguished cigarette butt with the toe of his shoe. “She’s never going to say yes, Dom.”

“You know that for sure?”

“I know Mosi Doust.” Arthur stared sharply into the space just to the side of Cobb’s head, scowling. “She’s shallow, greedy, not to mention completely unstable–” he paused his tirade as a group of commuters fresh off the tube flowed between them, jostling them both with many ‘excuse me’s and ‘sorry’s, “– and she doesn’t care about anyone but herself.” 

Cobb’s eyes followed the last of the crowd as they went out into the night, hands resting lightly in his coat pockets, before turning back to Arthur, head inclined slightly inward. “Maybe she’ll surprise you.”

Arthur crossed his arms across his chest, smirking bitterly. “I won’t hold my breath.”

Cobb opened his mouth to speak when suddenly an observation worked its way to the forefront of his mind. He whipped his head around sharply, staring off into the direction that the crowd had gone. “Wait, was that her?”

Arthur followed his gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

Cobb took several steps forward, before turning back to explain, “The woman who bumped you when she walked by, was that Mo?”

Arthur was half-way through rolling his eyes and smiling when he dipped his hands into his pants pocket and abruptly stopped both smug activities. His fingers danced quickly over his back pockets and jacket pockets before he nodded swiftly. “That was her.”

“How–” 

“My wallet’s gone.”

Arthur broke into a sprint, bobbing and weaving his way through pedestrian and vehicle traffic, Cobb following several steps behind with a smile he hoped Arthur wouldn’t notice. 


	6. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cobb and Arthur finally come face to face with a figure from their past who is less than pleased to see them for reasons of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the cast of characters begins to coalesce. Thanks to all those who have seen fit to give this story the once over! As always, more to come, and if you let me know what you think, it'd be much appreciated.

Mosi waited in a narrow alleyway, breathing evenly and deeply after her brief sprint from the Circus. Her ears caught the sound of rushing footsteps, carefully noting the speed and direction as they passed by, the blurred figures of Cobb and Arthur zipping across the alley entrance and disappearing into the night. Her smile widened the more the sound faded into the general flow of city traffic.

That had been fun.

She glanced down at the smooth brown leather wallet in her hand, running her fingers over it in admiration before splitting it open to examine its innards. She passed up the credit cards and ID – she never bothered with identity theft; it didn’t seem sporting. Besides, cash was quicker, cleaner, and harder to trace. You could spend it as soon as you picked it up, without having to worry about getting caught at an ATM or by an overzealous store clerk.

Spreading the thin papers across her palm expertly so as to not draw any attention, she gauged the take at about five hundred or so in fifties and twenties, some pound notes, some dollars. Mosi’s smiled wide, her misty blue eyes lighting up at her unexpected luck. Arthur had always had expensive taste, but when she had known him, he could rarely afford to indulge himself. Clearly things had changed.

With a deep, slightly tired sigh, she slipped the wallet into her jacket pocket to sell later and tucked the money into the tight waistband of her jeans. She had learned long ago that even thieves can get stolen from, which would be tragic seeing as she had a real yearning to eat something expensive tonight.

Indian maybe.

She poked her head out of the alleyway cautiously, scanning the street in both directions, blowing her dark hair out of her eyes automatically. Seeing nothing amiss, she stepped out casually, hands in her pockets, and headed with a relaxed gait in the opposite direction her prey had gone.

She was lucky the rain had stopped, and the night had turned balmy; otherwise, she might have decided to zip up her jacket before heading back out onto the street. Then, Cobb would’ve ended up choking her with her own hoodie when he yanked her firmly by the collar from behind, jolting her back and slightly upwards, lifting her onto the tips of her trainers.

“Hello, Mo – how are you?”

The hands that Mosi had instinctually thrown up in an effort to free herself stopped attempting to loosen Cobb’s grip. She patted his fist in a friendly way. “Oh, I’m hundreds [1], Dom, hundreds. Yourself?”

“I’ve been better.”

Arthur stepped around Cobb, circling the pair until he was directly in front of the captured woman. He scowled fiercely, eyes hard, flat, and dark. His hand thrust forward violently, palm up.

“Wallet.”

Mosi’s fake cheer developed an edge of sincerity at the sight of Arthur’s displeasure. “Can’t you even start with a hello? Eish [2], Arthur, I know you missed me terribly - there’s no need to keep it inside, chana [3].”

Arthur’s expression didn’t change. “Wallet, Mosi. I won’t ask again.”

She met his stare evenly, one side of her mouth still curling up into something bordering on a smirk. She reached into her jacket and slapped the folded leather into his hand a tad harder than necessary. “There.”

“Listen, Dom?” Mosi twisted her head to one side, attempting to get a good look at the man behind her. “You think you could put me down now? I’m starting to lose some feeling in my arms.”

Cobb lowered her back to the sidewalk gently, taking several steps back and around her as she straightened out her attire. Arthur tossed his wallet to his free hand, the other still held out in front of him.

Mosi stared at it for several moments, eyebrows arched high above her wide eyes. Finally, she glanced back up at Arthur.

“Wha–”

“Money.”

Mosi folded her arms across her chest, leaning back on one foot. Her smile was softer now that she’d gotten over the shock of getting pinched. “You haven’t even looked in the damn thing yet.”

Arthur sighed; the anger falling away from his face only to be replaced with what Mosi estimated was one of the most condescending looks she’d ever seen. “Do you have to make everything difficult?”

“Just for you, bokki [4].” The old nickname elicited the appropriate reaction – that is, Arthur glared at her and let out a soft sound of disgust. Mosi, chuckling ruefully, fished the papers from her hiding spot, kissing the stack before proffering them to Arthur, who looked at them askance as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted them now that he knew where they’d been. He took them gingerly with two fingers and busied himself putting them back into his wallet in the right order.

Mosi turned towards Cobb, her stance still closed up tight. “Well, Arthur’s flush and you’re looking unusually cheery – I’m guessing you two are in the midst of high times! Come to celebrate?”

“Actually, we came here for you.”

“Ah.” Arthur raised a hand in protest, depositing his wallet carefully into his pocket before pointing a finger at Cobb. “He came here for you. I came in a vain attempt to convince him you weren’t worth finding, but my efforts have failed.”

Mosi’s smile stretched out thinly, the lines of her lips taut and curled. She responded by angling her body even more towards Cobb. “Well in that case I’m glad you made the trip, if only to spite Arthur.”

Arthur shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his “Thanks” a sarcasm-dripping drawl.

Mosi shot him a look over her shoulders, shrugging. “Hey, at least I’m honest.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Cobb cut in smoothly. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Mosi looked up at Cobb, clearing her throat as she took a step back.

Cobb stepped forward; his head inclined towards her slightly. “What?”

She held her hands up in front of her, waving them from side to side as her head followed. “Nothing, nothing! It’s just,” Mosi struggled uncharacteristically with words, body swaying to and fro in agitation, “that is to say, as great as it is to see you, Cobb, and trust me–” she flashed a toothy smile. “–it’s really great to see you. I simply don’t have the time tonight.” Her hands retreated to her pockets, her whole frame slouching into a wince. “Or any other night for that matter.”

Cobb’s hands spread out before him, a small smile gracing his lips. “Come on, Mo; do you really want to disappoint an old friend?”

Mosi closed her eyes tight, lifting her face into the rapidly cooling night air, breathing out through her nose. “Now, Dom, don’t…don’t be that way. It’s because we’re old friends.” She met his gaze with an unexpected smile, her hand coming out of her pocket to give his cheek a pat with her long fingers. “You know how much I hate to say no to that pretty face of yours.”

Cobb responded to the familiar affectionate gesture with a laugh. “Who says you have to say no?”

“I do.” The tone was unusually sharp, especially from Mosi. Cobb leaned back, giving her the space he sensed she needed. Her grey-blue eyes were round and heavy in the waning light. Her next utterance was softer and sadder. “There’s only one reason you’d track me down, Cobb – I may be out of the game, but I haven’t gone senile. And the answer is, unfortunately, no.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air, thickening and coloring it with all the things unsaid between the trio.

“Could we at least talk it over?” Cobb’s blue eyes were wide and pleading, his shoulders hunched up to his chin as he attempted to make eye contact with the reluctant woman in front of him. “Please, Mo.” She was looking anywhere but at him. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot, the physical incarnation of her inward resolve wavering. “Say it’s for old times’ sake if that makes it easier.”

Rolling her head heavenwards, Mosi moaned in frustration, jumping slightly before finally meeting Cobb’s gaze. “Ag man! [5] Okay! Okay, for old times’ sake, damn it.” She smiled ruefully, punching his arm playfully. “We can go up to Ponti’s, remember that place? Still has the best coffee on this rock.”

Cobb rubbed his arm with a smirk. “You don’t even drink coffee.”

“Yeah, I know.” For a brief moment, Mosi almost looked sheepish, but she tossed her head to one side, shaking hair out of her face and the blush was gone. “But the smell of it is enough to tempt me. Come on.”

Arthur took a step forward, making to come neatly in between Cobb and Mosi, when the latter turned and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Mosi voice was sickly sweet, her eyes suddenly filled with sympathy, her lower lip protruding ever so slightly as she intoned. “Ooh, fugitives only sweetie.” She brought her hand up, pretending to tuck a piece of wayward hair behind his ear. “Besides, isn’t it time for all good-boys to be in bed?”

He pushed her hand off angrily and was about to reply when Cobb stepped between them. “Arthur, I think I can handle it from here. Why don’t you head back to the hotel?”

“Gladly.” With one last glare thrown at Mosi, he turned, pulling his jacket tight across his shoulders as he strode away, determined to put as much distance between him and her as possible.

Cobb turned to Mosi, who was smiling indulgently, one arm swinging wide. “Shall we?”

* * *

[1] good, fine; as in 100 percent

[2] Used to express frustration, disapproval, surprise, or displeasure

[3] mate

[4] Equivalent to “honey” or “sweetheart”

[5] Oh man!


	7. The Carrot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mosi and Cobb catch up over some hot beverages and Cobb makes her an offer he knows she can't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who have given this story the once over! As always, more to come, and if you let me know what you think, it'd be much appreciated.

Visiting the Ponti Café was a tradition with Mosi long before she took up residence in London. During her years of unlawful, yet incredibly gainful, employment in the extraction business, she’d traveled through Heathrow many times. Heathrow being the hellish air travel hub it was, Mosi often found herself with a few hours to kill in the great city every time she flew.

Ponti’s was her haven.

She picked up the bulbous blue cups and saucers with a customary unnoticed nod to the barista just behind the counter, already hard at work on at least three other orders. Ponti’s was packed with tourists, hipsters making fun of the tourists, and night shift workers making fun of the hipsters. Mosi lifted the cups of hot liquid up and around the sea of talking heads, her body contorting through the crowd with practiced ease, feet just managing to avoid purses, power cords, and the occasional stack of books.

Cobb sat at a plastic-topped table in the back, just under the stairs that led up to the second floor. It was a surprisingly quiet spot amidst the chaos of caffeine-seeking people of the night; equally surprising was the fact that the table seemed to have been reserved for Mosi, who had picked up the cheap cardboard sign with a flourish, gesturing him to sit before making her way to the front of the long line with no resistance.

Cobb could almost make out the strained tones of modern folk music pulsing out of the speaker system, his mind wandering to past memories as he watched Mosi pick her way towards him. Her gawky frame managed to look almost graceful in movement, a quality he had forgotten about in the intervening years.

“You must come here often,” he commented, throwing one arm over the back of his chair as he leaned back, smiling up into her flushed face.

“Too often.” Mosi smiled back, keeping one eye on the precariously full drinks as she slid herself onto her chair. She placed her own mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of her, bringing his fresh Americano up to her nose and breathing in deeply. With a delighted shiver and a longing sigh, she relinquished it.

Cobb took the cup gingerly, eyeing the woman across from him suspiciously. “You know you could always order your own. You’d get to drink it and everything.”

Mosi waved a hand at him dismissively, taking a long swallow of her drink. “If there’s one thing I don’t need, it’s a caffeine addiction.” She leaned back in her chair slowly, brushing an errant bang out of her face with her free hand as she allowed herself a smile. “I have enough problems as it is.” 

Cobb refrained from responding, managing to pull a weak grin across his lips as his fingers tapped the ceramic cup nervously. Mosi watched him for a moment, her eyes scrunching down into a squint. She put down her cup with a gentle click but remained in a languid position. “You’re in quite the state, aren’t you, bergie [1]?”

Taking a sip of his coffee, Cobb straightened in his chair, cocking his head to one side as he valiantly endeavored to keep smiling. “Is it that obvious?”

Mosi took the opportunity to shrug her jacket off her shoulders, shaking her head as she pulled at her sleeves. “No. No it’s not.” She turned, draping her jacket over the chair carefully, avoiding his eyes. “I just know you very, very well.”

When she turned back towards him, her face was all business. The easy lines of smiles had fallen from her lips and eyes; her expression had become unreadable. Her body remained, as always, loose, her arms and legs splaying out from her body languidly. It was only because Cobb also knew her very, very well that he could detect the slight tension in her shoulders, the repositioning of her body towards the nearest exit.

Cobb took a drink of his Americano, endeavoring to act as if he hadn’t noticed the complete shift in the mood of his companion. He fidgeted in the uncomfortable metal chair as if it was the foremost thing on his mind, lining up the words carefully before they hit his tongue.

“I need your help, Mo.”

“Oh.” She moved her arm up to rest on the back of the chair, her hand flipping up easily as she adjusted. “Well, in that case, name it - I’m always happy to help a friend.”

Her tone was anything but friendly, and Cobb knew that she knew it. He leaned in, resting his arm on the table as he did so. “It’s a job.”

“Unavailable.” She began to stand up, grabbing her coat with one hand. “Was that it?”

“Mosi.”

She paused, awkwardly stuck in a position half erect and half at rest. She translated an eye-roll into a complete upper body expression, rolling her shoulders back and her head around her neck as she looked back down at the man across from her with unwilling eyes.

His sea foam blue eyes glanced up at her for only a moment before returning to their previous position, staring straight ahead at where she had been reclining. “Mo, you promised to hear me out.”

Mosi took a deep breath in through her nose, letting it out slowly as she returned to her seat. This time her hands came up to rest on the tabletop, fingers intertwining tensely. “Okay. Okay, Dom: I’m listening.”

Cobb breathed in deeply, putting himself mentally back on the script he had prepared. “It’s a dangerous job. With no payment that I can guarantee, you should know that upfront.”

Mosi attempted to mask her confusion and interest with a casual sip of her cooling drink. “Alright, it’s known. What kind of job is this?”

“It’s more of a…” Cobb searched for the right words, twisting his cup in its saucer absentmindedly. “…a personal favor then a job.”

Mosi pulled back slightly, straightening her back and looking at him sideways. “Listen, Dom…if you’re in some kind of trouble, you can just come out and say it. Is it your charges back in the states? Has something changed?”

Cobb couldn’t suppress a chuckle, shaking his head over his steaming drink with a tense smile. “Well, if you have to know, they have changed. But that’s not the problem, no.”

Her inquiring eyes and disbelieving grimace asked all the questions for her and Cobb couldn’t avoid answering them, especially since it still gave him a thrill to say it, even a year later. “I found a way home, Mo.”

“Home?” Mosi leaned in slowly, a smile spreading across her features. “Home home? Home in the states, but not in prison home? Home with your family home?”

Cobb only nodded. Mosi’s hands came up to her mouth, deadening the sound of her ecstatic exclamations. “Aweh [2]! Aweh, Dom! That is so – I mean! That is so befok [3], bru [4]!” She grabbed him warmly by the arms, leaning over the table to plant an unexpected kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations!”

He cleared his throat, smiling but caught off guard by Mosi’s emotional outburst that had at one time been so familiar. “Thanks.”

She sat back hard in her chair, her grey eyes as wide as her smile. “How did this happen? When?”

“About a year ago.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair, seemingly unable to control the smile on his face. “And it’s been a great year.”

Mosi cocked her head to one side, reaching a hand out to toy with the handle of her cup. “I’ll bet. But how’d you do it, Dom?” 

Cobb considered the impact of his response before he said it, watching her closely, curious to his old friend’s reaction. “Inception.”

Mosi’s face remained disappointingly unchanged. She waited a beat before nodding, mistaking his silence for a need of encouragement. “Yeah, what about it?”

Dom splayed his hand out on the countertop, leaning in as he explained simply, “I did it.”

Her shoulders dropped slowly, arms falling down to her sides. She pushed her body away from the table as if she was considering getting up. Her breathing shallowed out as she stared at the man across from her.

“Bullshit.”

Cobb shook his head ever so slightly, sending Mosi’s eyes flicking compulsively from his face to a chipped tile on the café floor. “Are you…” her voice had fallen to a whisper and she was having difficulty completing sentences, as if she had just run a 5k. He had to lean in to hear her properly. “Are you telling me…that you – you, actually did it; you – you planted an idea in someone’s mind and it, it stuck?” Her pleading eyes finally met his. “It worked?”

He nodded, smiling wide. “Yes.”

Mosi couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her two arms came up slowly, resting one on top of the other. Her head dropped onto them with a high-pitched groan and a simple exclamation. “Oh Christ, I think I’m going to faint.”

Cobb sat back in his chair, draining his drink to the dregs. “Try breathing through your nose, I hear it helps.”

“Okay, sure,” was the muffled response from the recumbent woman across from him. She lifted her head after a few moments, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy. “You clever son of a bitch, you really did it? I think I just fell in love with you!”

“I sincerely hope not. No offense.”

“None taken.” Mosi sat back, composure slowly but surely returning to her as she smiled, sighing and moaning like a happy child. “You did it, I cannot believe it! How, how, you have to tell me! It’s not like Inception’s been a part of my life since I was 12 or anything, you have to tell me!”

Cobb sensed an opportunity, one that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of before. He ran a hand through his hair casually, a hand slipping itself into his pocket before he made eye contact with her again. “I would, but it’s my only poker chip in this game.”

Mosi greedily sucked down a mouthful of hot chocolate before pressing, “How so?” 

“Here’s the way it works,” Cobb kept his expression amiable enough, but his tone was all business. “You do this favor for me, this job – and I’ll give you Inception.”

* * *

[1] Refers to anyone down-and-out

[2] An exclamation of excitement

[3] Really good, exciting, cool

[4] Male friend, brother


	8. The Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mosi gets more details about the situation in which Cobb finds himself and must make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe we've gotten over the 10,000 word mark already! Thanks to all who've stopped in and given the fic a read. As always, more to come, and if you let me know what you think, it'd be much appreciated.

Mosi placed the chipped blue cup down on the table slowly. Cobb watched its trajectory until it made contact, all too aware of the sudden coolness of his companion.

“Wow.” Mosi let go of the handle as if she were afraid the china was going to suddenly flit away, like a fish let off the line. Her eyes were flat in the harsh light of the café. Cobb didn’t flinch under her steady gaze only because of the long practice he’d had with such appraisals. “That’s very…calculated of you, Cobb.” Mosi threw her arms over her chest with a shaky, deprecating smile. “It’s clear your business savvy has improved since we parted.”

Cobb leaned in, eager to close the gap she was putting between them. “I know how much Inception means to you–”

“Then you should damn well know better than to use it as a bargaining chip.” The hurt in her voice was genuine, which surprised him. “Hell, is that what friends do?” So much about her was for show, he’d realized that long ago, but the reproach and weakness in her eyes was painfully honest, even as she tried to mask it with a sort of glib disappointment.

Cobb grabbed onto the familiar sarcasm gratefully, adopting a playful tone. “Think of it as icing on the cake. As the prize, but not the motivation.”

Mosi paused, her eyes drifting upward as her hand moved back towards her cup. “And that would be…what?”

“Helping out an old friend.”

Sighing heavily, Mosi begrudgingly waved her hand at Cobb. “What’s the job then, friend?”

“Extraction.”

“What would we be extracting?”

“A sensitive piece of information that the subject wouldn’t want revealed publicly.” He lifted an arm over the back of his chair to make himself more comfortable. “Haven’t quite figured out what exactly that is yet, but that’s where you come in.”

“So, blackmail?” Mosi lifted her eyebrows in vague interest when he nodded, smiling with one side of her mouth as she queried, “Why do you need me?”

“Because I’m out.”

The smile was gone. “Out out?”

Cobb nodded; his lips set in a hard line. “I made a promise; to myself and to my family. That part of my life is over; I can’t take those kinds of chances anymore.”

It seemed to Mosi that today was one of those days the universe sends to purposefully knock us off balance. When she had left her flat this evening, this was not how she envisioned spending the night. It was too much. She opted for a sidestep of emotion as she observed. “So, the job’s risky. Interesting.” A sip of hot chocolate coated her rapidly drying throat. “Who’s the subject?”

“A man. I don’t know much about him,” Cobb admitted uneasily, toying with the ring he still wore on his finger. “Name’s Rafe Toporak.”

Mosi’s laugh shook Cobb from his own dark thoughts; it was such an unexpected reaction. She threw a hand up into the air, eyes rolling good naturedly as she chortled. “Right! Rafe Toporak! I see getting back home has improved your sense of humor, Dom.” The scampish smile she leveled at her companion faded quickly at the sight of his confused glare. She sobered up, compulsively pushing her hair behind her ear as she leaned in. “Wait, are you serious?”

Cobb nodded. “Very, why?”

“You actually met this man?” His only answer was another nod. Mosi lowered her voice, leaning in across the table, her expression becoming the picture of shocked disbelief. “Face to face, you saw him? In the flesh?”

Her reaction was beginning to unseat his usual calm. Cobb squirmed in his seat, a bite of annoyance slinking into his words. “Yes! Why, do you know him?”

Mosi sat back in her chair, clearing her throat as she attempted another laugh, this one strangely pregnant with disgust. “Hardly. To be honest, I was fairly convinced he didn’t exist.” Cobb’s blue eyes creased in curiosity. Mosi stretched her legs out underneath the table with a sigh. “Back in the old days, when this whole dream sharing for profit business was first getting started, my dad and some of his mates used sit around during the off hours and trade stories about an extractor named Rafe Toporak.” She took another sip of her drink, long since cold, casting a contemplative glance up toward the ceiling. “I’d imagine he would’ve been quite a bit younger in those days, of course.”

“What did they say about him?”

“Well they’d talk about jobs he’d done. Way he handled jobs when things went south, as they did more often in those days. People he’d…done things too.” Cobb watched her closely, noting the shiver that went through her as she paused to remember. “They talked about him like he was the boogeyman, you know? I sort of assumed they were just swapping campfire stories.” She met his gaze steadily, half-smiling as she gestured towards him with her cup. “But you say you’ve met him.”

“I have. He came to my house.”

That sick feeling that had been gestating deep in her stomach reared its ugly head. She didn’t bother hiding her concern. “What did he want?”

“Inception.”

There was another span of silence that stretched between them, Mosi looking into Cobb’s eyes in that cool, unblinking way he remembered, Cobb refusing to shift his gaze.

“You’re not going to give it to him.” She had read him like a book. It was an annoying habit.

Cobb let his head drop, his neck tense and tired under the strain of the past couple of days. “Do you think I should?”

“No, no – hell no, Dom, it’s not that!” She shifted in her seat, the corners of her mouth turning down into a sympathetic grimace. “It’s just…I can’t imagine a man like Rafe Toporak taking a ‘no’ very well.”

“He didn’t.”

Mosi said nothing. Cobb didn’t care what Arthur might say: Mosi really did know when to keep her mouth shut. It was one of the things he admired most about her. “He said he’d come after my children, Mo. If I didn’t say yes, he was going to kill them.” Mosi didn’t reply, but stayed staring out just over his shoulder, her face noticeably blank. Cobb couldn’t help but ask, “Would he? From what you’ve heard?”

The question elicited a mirthless, quiet laugh from his companion. “From what I’ve heard? Kak [1], Cobb! Half of the things I’ve heard I’m not even sure are true!” She glanced down at him, her eyes holding just the tiniest sliver of concern. “But if even half of them are, I can tell you this: he’s a monster. He’s a psychopath, totally bosbefok [2], you get me?” She stirred her hot chocolate absentmindedly. “And he should be ridiculously wealthy to boot, which means he’s got power and a very long reach – if the stories are true, of course.”

Cobb took this information as soberly as he could under the circumstances. But pushing the worst fears to the back of his mind, he actually managed a smile as he said, “Well, I guess you’ll find out.”

Mosi’s response was as comedic as he’d expected. The spoon clanked against the ceramic cup as she dropped it, her body abruptly coming to attention as she sat up stock straight in her chair, waving both hands in front of her as she scowled. “Now hold on a minute! I haven’t said yes, I haven’t even said anything vaguely resembling a yes!” She looked up at him from under her brow, her mouth open in a sarcastic smile. “If this job is as…as risky and high stakes as you’ve said it is – why are you coming to me?”

“You’re one of the best, Mosi. Always have been.”

The compliment was an unexpected play for him. Mosi’s hands dropped to the tabletop where they caressed the edge. She blinked, her cloudy eyes getting wide. “No. Dom, no. I was one of the best, notably past-tense.” The bereavement in her voice almost compelled Cobb to reach across the table and hold her hand. As if she had predicted this, she curled up upon herself, pulling in her arms tightly, her chin dropping to her chest. “I can’t do it anymore. You know that.”

Cobb had known this before he had made up his mind to ask her this favor. But knowing it and hearing her say it were two different things. He was silent for a moment and Mosi did nothing to ease the tension he felt. When he did speak, his tone was more intimate then he had previously intended. “I need someone I can trust on this, Mosi. Someone I can count on to do whatever it takes.” Mosi didn’t look up, seemingly entranced by the parallel scratches on the tabletop. “Besides, I’ve talked to some people you’ve worked with, after you left. They said you managed alright.”

“Alright is not what you want with a job like this.” Half mumbling the words, Cobb was uncertain whether she was addressing him or simply talking out loud. There was a beat. And then she flipped her head up, pushing the hair out of her face as she scowled, demanding sourly, “And what people?”

“Eames, for one.”

“Eames. Nogal [3].” The sentimental smile that graced her lips softened that look of disgust into something more closely resembling exhaustion. She even managed a laugh as she queried, “That crazy bastard is still working?” Cobb nodded. “How is he?’

“He’s good. In Argentina last time I heard, living the high life.”

Mosi nodded, tilting her head to one side as she reminisced. “That certainly sounds like him; make it all so you can spend it all.”

She was wearing down. They could both sense it. The aura of endless energy that Mosi usually projected had faded down to a barely warming glow. She was staring out into the crowd listlessly, thinking what Cobb couldn’t have begun to guess. He leaned in slightly, resting an arm against the wobbly table. “Look, Mosi, I’m not here to derail your life. If you’re happy here, if you’re doing well for yourself, I would completely understand you wanting to say no. I’m here because I really need your help.” Mosi glanced back at him, her mouth opening ever so slightly. “And you know that’s not easy for me to say.”

She turned away again, gnawing her lower lip furiously before she released it with a sigh. “Do I have any time to think this over, or is it a now or never sort of offer?”

Cobb straightened his jacket as he stood, coming around his chair to reclaim and don his coat as he spoke. “I’m catching a flight back to L.A. this time tomorrow; at least that’s the plan. I’m staying at the Dorchester; meet me there if you’re in.”

“Don’t be surprised if I don’t show, Cobb.” Her tone was cold and hard. It was so unlike her that he paused in his departing preparations to look down at her. She sat stock still, staring forward without expression. The only thing Cobb could think about was how tired she looked. “I don’t think you have any idea what you’re asking me to risk, I really don’t.”

“That’s probably true.” Cobb leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. “It was good to see you, Mo.”

He walked away, pulling his collar tight around his neck. It had started raining again. Mosi sat, tapping a mournful beat on the table as she stared at the water running down the pane of glass beside her.

What was she going to do?

* * *

[1] Shit

[2] Mad, psychopathic

[3] Of all things. A term expressing surprise


	9. Caveats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Offers are accepted, rescinded, and amended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate each and every one of you lovely folk who have stopped in over the last eight chapters - I hope you enjoy installment number nine!

The Dorchester was an expensive hotel without being flashy; pleasant and high-end while still “under the radar” enough to allow one to stay in it with impunity if people were looking for you. Cobb had taken a liking to its architecture, big swooping windows on the ground floor, the lines of them arching up and falling back down to mingle with the browns, golds, and greens that made up the décor. The furniture was classical, without being old fashioned, spaced in tiny groups of three and four throughout the lobby. It was a comfortable place to sit and wait, while offering many avenues of quick escape if a business meeting went wrong.

Mosi had showed him this place.

It was an hour before he had to leave for his flight, and she had yet to arrive. Cobb sat quietly in a chair equal distance from the front and the back doors, stoically looking at neither. He appeared relaxed enough, legs crossed, arms resting casually on his seat. If it wasn’t for the seriousness of his expression, one would be hard pressed to sense anything wrong at all.

Arthur was decidedly less self-contained. He paced back and forth in front of the chair across from Cobb. He shook his head occasionally, opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, then stopped with another shake.

His mind working hard on the potential obstacle that faced him, Cobb was attempting to ignore his companion’s agitation. But Arthur was so rarely agitated that Cobb was completely fascinated to the point of distraction.

“Arthur.”

The man turned his coiffed head in Cobb’s direction, stopping. Cobb attempted a smile. “Please. I can’t think when you do that.”

Arthur sat down wordlessly, his lips thinning into a hard line.

Cobb turned his gaze up towards the grandfather clock to his left. Twenty minutes until he had to leave. It looked like he was going to have to fall back onto plan B.

Except he didn’t have a Plan B.

Arthur was staring holes through him, his legs spread wide, elbows resting on each knee as he hunched over.

Cobb folded under his stare, sighing deeply as he leaned back in his seat, hand coming up to swipe hard across his lips. “Damn it.”

“Dom-”

Cobb attempted to short circuit the reproach he knew was coming, raising a hand as his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Don’t, don’t say it.”

But Arthur would not be denied his moment of triumph, throwing himself back into his chair while waving his hand in the air, scowling deeply. “Fine. Fine, I won’t say what a complete waste of time it was coming here, or how I knew she’d never commit to anything that didn’t involve a direct benefit to her, or how extremely relieved I am that she’s not here.”

Cobb’s baleful stare almost made Arthur regret what he had said, but his disgust just managed to trump his desire to go easy on his friend. He breathed hard, his burnt caramel eyes seeking solace in the ceiling before meeting Cobb’s troubled glance. “There are other people, Cobb. Other extractors just as good.” He ticked off the names on his fingers as he said them. “There’s Haynes…there’s Franklin…there’s Dacey-”

Arthur felt the weight on the back of his chair before he heard her voice. Mosi had perched herself lightly on the wide, curved back of the seat. Leaning her weight on one outstretched arm, her converse clad feet swung to and fro as she spoke. “Dacey, I think you’ll find, is a complete alcoholic, Franklin couldn’t extract his own head out of his ass and Haynes…” While her assessment had so far been addressed seemingly at the air above her head, her pause brought her gaze downward onto Arthur’s upturned face. Her smile was positively criminal as she surmised “…well, Haynes isn’t as pretty as me, is he?”

The lines of Arthur’s scowl had grown even deeper. The misery in his eyes made it clear that while he could take issue with that statement, he was restraining himself as much as he could. Mosi pushed the back of his head jovially with her elbow. “Cheer up, bokkie: you know you would’ve missed me.”

Cobb smoothed out his tie as he looked up at her, half smiling. “I thought you weren’t going to show.”

“I wasn’t.” Mosi slipped off the back of the chair gracefully, coming around it as she spoke. “I was sitting in that bar,” she pointed to the lounge tucked in the back corner, stopping in front of Cobb, “nursing my Warsaw Cocktail, watching you stew –” She paused, her outstretched hand bobbing as she laughed, head cocked to one side. “–particularly enjoying Arthur’s attempt to wear a hole in the carpet, and happily convinced I was going to watch you walk off to get on your flight back home. But, I turned away for a minute and looked out the window–” she turned slowly on her heel until she was facing the large windows of the lobby and stabbed the air in front of her maliciously. “– at that. That…awful scene of black streets, grey sky, and brown rain; and you know what?” Mosi sat down abruptly on the low, blocky coffee table behind her. She shook her head, bangs swinging listlessly in front of her wide-eyed face. “I just couldn’t take it anymore.” Mosi leaned back onto the heels of her hands. “So don’t thank me for coming out, chommie [1], you can thank this vrot [2], miserable little town called London for driving me crazy enough to join you on this venture.”

Cobb nodded in mock seriousness. “Duly noted.” He knew a thin excuse when he heard one but said nothing else about it.

Mosi returned the gesture, carefully avoiding eye contact. “Right. Good.” She breathed in through her nose, rolling her neck around her shoulders before she spoke. “Now: we have a bit of a problem.”

Sinking sullenly back in his seat, Arthur scoffed aloud. “That was fast.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Mosi didn’t even bother turning to face him directly, her speech coming snidely out of one side of her mouth, “it wasn’t actually your fault this time.”

“What’s the problem, Mo?”

Admiring Cobb’s ever present tact, she hesitated for a moment, unsure how to express the issue politely. “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but: I’ve been out for a long while now. Most of the people I used to work with –” She leaned forward, throwing her hands up in the air to illustrate her point. “I have no idea where they are; it’s going to take a while to track them down.”

“We don’t have the time.”

She noted the shifting of Cobb’s eyes off of her face with guarded concern. She modulated her voice carefully. “Why not?” The wince he made did little to assure her.

“We have a month.” He shrugged, adding quietly, “A couple days short of a month, actually.”

Mosi’s hands came down with a sharp slap before she stood, taking several steps away from him before Cobb could cut her off with a pleading, “Where are you going?”

She swung round, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Back to my seat at the bar!”

“Mo–”

“Don’t you ‘Mo’ me, Dominic Cobb!” Mosi stomped back towards him, her volume appropriate to the public setting, but her anger evident as fumed. “You never said anything about a month! That’s, that’s –” the sputter was getting the better of her and she forced herself to slow down, hand cutting an angry swath through the air “– that’s impossible!”

“I told you so.”

If she had been calmer, she would have noticed the mockery in his tone, the glint in his eyes, and the wicked slant to his mouth. But, being as she wasn’t, she walked right into it, turning to face him directly for the first time since she entered. “What, what did you tell him, Arthur? Please; share!”

His eyes met hers. “That you weren’t good enough.”

Yeah. She’d walked right into that one.

Cobb looked at first one, then the other. The air was tight. Mosi took her time answering, even though she knew there was only one thing she could say. “Fine.” The ‘f’ pushed its way between her teeth.

Her body remained tense, jaw clenched, but she returned to her seat, however stiffly. “A month. Fine.” She popped her lips, hands palm up in front of her. “I’m open to suggestions at this point.”

Cobb reached down to the case beside him, pulling out a thin blue file from its side pocket and placing it in her hands. Mosi’s curiosity successfully dampened her anger. “What’s this?”

“It’s a list.” He watched her open it and leaf through its contents. “Some people you might want to consider, their addresses…”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

The affection in her voice assured Cobb that she’d calmed down enough for him to bring up what he presumed would be the next sticking point. “Arthur will be your point man of course.”

“Hmm.” It wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting, but Cobb wasn’t about to complain. Mosi continued to peruse the papers in front of her. “He agreed to that?”

“He did.” Cobb sat back in his chair, truly starting to relax. “Anyway, who else would you get? He’s the best.”

“That’s laying it on a bit thick, but I suppose I get the point.” She lifted her head to grace him with a grin. “How important is a point man anyway?”

Arthur sat up straight in his seat, bristling all over. “You do realize I’m sitting right here?”

“Whoops, no, guess I forgot about you again,” it was almost convincing, except for the amusement in her voice. Mosi moved on quickly, tossing her head at Cobb as leaned over to take a pen from his case. “You’re heading back to LA, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Mosi scribbled across the bottom of a page quickly, speaking as she did so. “When you get there, phone this number. The man who answers, Gallins, tell him you’re with me and you need access to,” she tore off the bit of paper with the phone number and address on it, handing it to Cobb, “this building.” She clicked the pen closed, waving it in her hand. “If he gives you any trouble, just tell him I still have those pictures and I know where to send them, and he should shut up.”

Cobb glanced at the information before folding the scrap and slipping it into his breast pocket. “Work out of LA? Why?”

“For your sake mostly.” She returned the pen with a flourish. “If we’re not near enough for you to check-in in person, you’re going to be calling every couple of hours and that’ll make me want to hurt you. This way you have access to progress reports and I have access to your advice.” The look of gratitude on his face was a bit much for Mosi. “Besides, you can set up while I’m running around the world collecting people.”

“Thanks for the consideration.”

She returned her gaze to the page. “You’re more than welcome.”

Cobb watched her for a moment, struggling for a way to express what her help meant, but finding, as it often was with him, that saying nothing was probably best. “I guess I have a flight to catch.”

He stood, grabbing up his overcoat and bags in one smooth motion. Mosi lifted a hand in a wave, forehead creased in concentration at the lists in front of her. “I’ll meet you there in a couple days, yebo?”

“Right.” With a last nod of farewell at Arthur, Cobb walked away, feeling the dread that had been festering in his stomach subside for the first time since Toporak’s visit to him days ago.

The quiet lull that followed his leaving seemed to stretch on, growing tauter with every second until Arthur felt sure it was going to snap, painfully. Not wanting to be the one to get hurt, he opened his mouth to speak first, but Mosi’s mouth was, as he remembered, slightly faster. “I recommend we talk to each other as little as possible.”

There was no malice in her words, just a kind of straightforward tiredness that struck Arthur as genuine. He nodded, standing and slipping his hands into his pockets. “Sounds like a plan.”

Still without looking at him, Mosi stood as well, walking back towards the front doors where, Arthur noticed for the first time, a bellhop was waiting with what he assumed were her bags. “Great. Get your things, we’re going to Paris for our architect first.”

“Paris.” His middling mood suddenly vanished as he realized who exactly Cobb must have put on that list. “No. No, Mo – Mosi!” Either she was too far away to hear him or ignoring him; either way she didn’t even slow down. Arthur shrugged on his coat hurriedly, groaning as he rushed after her. “Ah, hell.”

* * *

[1] Chum, mate

[2] Rotten, awful


End file.
